


Monsters

by StoryCloud



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Sad, fallen human, no romantic relationships, non binary humans, parent, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 11:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5624704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoryCloud/pseuds/StoryCloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a reason they called them 'Monsters'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monsters

Every time a human fell, it was a child.

Every time, Toriel did her best. The first child – second - her mind had murmured, thoughts drifting back to their long-haired head and striped form– had given her some hope. To have found them before anyone else did. She tried to explain, in the best she could, what it would mean to leave the Ruins. Gently.

She'd made a grave mistake.

Maybe part of her didn't think Asgore would do it, even after all that had happened. She'd been a fool. The child had left. Unaware of just how bad the danger was.

Asgore had been glad that this child didn't look like the first. But they were in his mind when his trident came into view, and still there when he was opening the coffin –

Toriel hadn't ever thought it possible – that any pain could match the sorrow she felt when her own children died. She'd been wrong.

Asgore felt it, too.

The second child – Toriel had tried to explain, no sugar coating, what would happen if they left. They did anyway. Humans, resilient to the end.

The third time, Toriel was more forceful. Each time, Asgore's conversation with the human would grow briefer and briefer. It was like both of them knew that no matter how they tried; the nasty outcome would always remain the same. So why not get it over with?

Four times. Five times.

Six.

Part of Toriel still wanted to try. She'd grown strong; her heart had grown a crust. It had to – how else would she have survived, losing them all...?

But it was all for nought. This one – his soft, messy hair, his striped jumper, plump little body. Her Chara. No. A little one who didn't speak, with a face that remained oddly nonchalant. Chara had always beamed; rosy cheeked and smiley. For all their differences, their resemblence remained great. It broke her heart to see him.

That time, she'd taken it a step further. So help her, she'd scare the child back into his room if that was what it took to save him.

They'd gotten to her again, in the end. She gave in. She resigned herself to hear of the news. The news was different. Some of the children fought, others ran. Some Asgore killed himself...

Others, they say, had been struck down by another monster before they even reached Snowdon. They never stood a chance. But this child – the one like Chara – made it all the way to Asgore without capture. Marched through with mercy on their shoulder, collecting the things belonging to his fallen fellows.

But it was all for nought. Whatever differences his journey held, capture, attack, mercy, evasion – they ended up in the Capital.

Then the palace.

The guards let them go in. They blocked the exits. The child was trapped with Asgore. The whole kingdom rejoiced. The last soul they needed. They were almost free. Hugs were exchanged and laughs filled the air, faces beamed all around –

Were they that unaware of the horror they were cheering on?

Did they not understand?

Asgore fought them. Their pleas for peace ignored. Their offer of mercy destroyed. They were going to die.

And then the unexpected happened.

The unfathomable.

Toriel had dropped her book, everything she held. A being had fallen with a slam onto the flowerbed. They'd been on their feet in seconds and speeding past her like a bullet, racing through the ruins. Twice as tall as any human that had fallen before. Toriel knew in her heart who it was.

She didn't try to stop them.

The adult tore out of the ruins and into the snow. Snowdin residents halted in their merriment and excitement as the human charged through the crowded street; knocking aside guards like they were nothing. Their happiness evaporated into confusion and alarm when they say their expression –

Terror. Unholy, unrelenting, horror. They were terrified and yet their mere footsteps were enough to send monsters twice their size leaping out of the way. Their chests heaving and legs pumping, the tall human raced into Hotland.

The Monsters hadn't ever seen such a big human before. So at first the guards didn't realise. That's probably how the adult got so far through without anyone stopping them.

Then it clicked. Guards jumped out. Spectators watched on TV broadcast, in the street. They stood to watch the battle for their freedom, for their guards to stop the human that wanted to tear their hopes and dreams away from them at the last moment –

The adult tore through the guards. They'd made the mistake of grabbing their arms. Their terrified features twisted into horrified fury.

"LET ME GO!"

A single hit, not even a well placed one, killed the guard. The other reeled back and the human was free, they were hurting through the road to the elevator. The door shut before anyone could stop them. Monsters without weapons yelled abuse, tossing whatever they had – cans, butter knives. They saw scrapes and bruises but the human simply lifted their arms, bearing through it.

They got into the bare, white landscape of the capital. More guards. Undyne herself blocked their way. There the adult stood, breath heaving; soft, messy brown hair identical to the child's fluttering past their narrow eyes. A Monster soul clasped in their grip, dripping with dust.

"Get out of my way."

They listened nought to the speeches of freedom, of hopes and dreams. It didn't reach them through their raw, furious, undying terror.

Undyne was no match. She and her guards were tosses aside. Human children were one thing. An adult alone could flatten an army. Undyne lifted her head long enough to see the adult human's black shoe vanishing into another elevator.

Through the golden judgement hall.

A skeleton watched them sprint by, monster soul in hand; a single blue pupil watching them go. They did not stop them.

Inside, the child was lying on their stomach, little hands curled into fists. Their little body wracked with laboured breaths; quivering, silent sobs escaping their throat. Asgore, his heart tearing, lifting the trident –

CLANG.

The human adult had appeared before their child.

A single knife blocked Asgore's heavy blade.

"Monster." They'd hissed.

And they fought. The human snatched up their child and ran back. Guards met them; Undyne brandishing her lance. And finally, finally, something in the Royal Guard faltered. Hesitated at the sight of the nervous-wreck of a human that stood before them, a measly knife in one hand, their child clutched to their chest in another.

For once in her life, Undyne didn't know what to do.

The parent ran back into the throne room. Guards on their tale.

Past Asgore. His heart leaped in desperation and hardened at the same time, he took up his trident –

The human parent hit the barrier. A painful ripple travelled along its blurry wall. They looked back at the guards, at him, their face pale and their bodies barely able to stand from exhaustion.

A wound oozing from their side.

They looked at their child.

The little thing looked up at them, narrow eyes dizzy, head tilting to the left in confusion –

The parent shoved the Monster Soul into their little hands and tossed them through the barrier.

Asgore had felt the greatest relief.

And the greatest of sorrows.

The parent fell to his knees before the barrier; hands against the wall like glass. The child on the other side silently but frantically tapped their hands against it, each hit growing more and more desperate because they couldn't get to them. They didn't understand – or maybe they did and their own terror was just beginning. Asgore saw their face twist in agony and tears spring down their face.

He walked to the parent, trident in hand.

The parent did nothing, blood tripping, and their hand pulling away from the glass – away from their child.

The Monsters had their soul.

Undyne could do nothing but stare. Nothing had prepared her for this.

The barrier fell, but by that time, the child was long gone and Toriel had made it to the palace. She'd known she'd be too late.

Part of her rejoiced. An innocent was safe.

The other ached. Neither parent nor child needed to die.

The Monsters wanted to rejoice. But they were in shock. Many didn't understand what had happened.

Maybe they were beginning to realise what they had done.

If they didn't, they would.

The child had gone back up to the surface.

The humans would be waiting.

There was a reason they called them 'monsters'.


End file.
